


In a cold and stormy night

by Wandererzaehler



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Set during season 10, tag to 9x01
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 23:32:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,951
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11656971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wandererzaehler/pseuds/Wandererzaehler
Summary: When someone prays for help desperately, Castiel realises this might be his chance to repay an old debt. In doing so, he realises there is more to his latest experience than he guessed – but the answer to an old question has remained the same nonetheless.





	In a cold and stormy night

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Apart from the arrangement of words and the idea behind the story, I own nothing.

**In a cold and stormy night**

Rainwater ran down Cas' face and dropped off his nose in a steady flow. The black locks of his hair were matted to his forehead in damp disarray and didn't move an inch when a gust of wind blew his trench coat open, revealing the crisp white shirt and dark tie underneath.

Castiel blinked rapidly to keep the driblets from getting into his eyes.

He stepped back and retreated further into the shade of the tree towering behind him. The foliage kept some of the rain off him, but every now and then thicker drops that came from the leaves over his head landed on his head and shoulders.

It was unnecessary to stay out of the rain, as Castiel very well knew. He wasn't human anymore, and there was no chance he'd catch a cold just because his shoes were so wet they squelched when he moved. Still, a few weeks ago he would've been running for shelter in a heavy downpour like this, and he had found that habits like this one were hard to shake.  
They clung to him vigorously.

Cas frowned as he tried to remember how many days had passed since he got his grace back and realised that he couldn't.  
Now that he was an angel of the Lord again, time had started to become meaningless again.

Castiel shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He had abandoned his car some time ago and now stood in the rain watching the house across the street. The curtains were drawn, but he could see vague silhouettes moving behind them. Someone was pacing up and down restlessly.

There was a voice asking for help in a tone so desperate and so hopeless he might have come any way, even if the voice hadn't sounded vaguely familiar.

The angel remembered all too well how he had met the man, how a random stranger had shown kindness to him. It'd been a while before he realised that this kindness was not necessarily displayed by all humans, and some time before he could really appreciate the gesture.

He'd been feeling the need to return the favour, but his helper had gone without leaving a name, and he had never considered asking him for one.

_“Please, someone, anyone, please. God no. Please.”_

The prayers were open, and Castiel vaguely wondered why not one of his brothers had bothered to answer them. Things might be very different now, but the last assignment given to them by their father had been to look after humankind, and that was precisely what Castiel was going to do now.

He took a deep breath – another remnant of his past life that felt so long ago now – and walked over to the house.

* * *

 

Nothing happened for a few moments after Castiel had rung the doorbell. He stood on the doormat, nervously fingering the contents of his pocket. For some reason he felt nervous.

A shadow became visible in the frosted glass pane and the door opened. A woman with a drawn, narrow face, unkempt hair and tired-looking eyes with deep shadows underneath them appeared in the frame. She eyed Castiel up and down warily.

“What?”, she snapped, one hand poised to slam the door if necessary. Her voice was unfamiliar, and Castiel figured she hadn't been praying in this time of need.

“Hello”, he said, giving her his best smile, “my name is Castiel. I'm here to offer my assistance to you.”

The woman's mouth opened slightly and her eyes narrowed, first in disbelief, then even more in anger. She slammed the door in Castiel's face with an angry shriek, leaving him standing on the outside dripping onto the doormat.

Without thinking about it, he rang again and the woman opened the door again to downright scream into his face: “I'm not interested in your counselling crap! Go and tell that to your church, or whatever sect you've escaped from – I'm done with your kind! It's enough that my husband still believes in this mumbo-jumbo –“

The woman's lips began to tremble and she barely held it together as she added: “Just leave us alone goddammit!”

The woman tried to shut the door again, but this time Castiel was prepared and stopped her. He held the door open forcefully and looked down at the woman who shrank back in surprise, her mouth slightly open in disbelief. Her eyes filled with tears.

“I apologise for this intrusion”, Castiel said, “this is not usually how I like to proceed in cases such as this one.”  
He laid his free hand on the woman's shoulder: “There is a debt I have to repay: Your husband helped me in a time of need. He is asking for help now, and I am inclined to answer his prayers. Please do not be alarmed. There is nothing to fear.”

Castiel gently moved her aside, using only as much strength as he really needed to, and stepped into the house unbidden.

* * *

 

It wasn't hard to localize the room the prayers were coming from. Castiel went upstairs and down the corridor to his left. The first door stood slightly ajar. He pushed it open.

The room was dimly lit by a single lamp standing on a nightstand next to a bed.  
The wallpaper was colourful even in the faint light. There was a bookshelf to Castiel's left which wasn't only filled with books but also with the knick-knacks only a young child would save: Stones picked up along the way because they had an especially smooth surface, or were weirdly shaped, or strangely coloured; ruffled-looking birds' feathers gently moving in the breeze coming in from the door; toys of various sizes; teddy bears and dolls with glass eyes that reflected the dim light.

At the other end of the room, under the window, stood a kid's table with suitably small chairs grouped around it. A tray with plastic cups and a teapot with flower pattern stood on it.

A similar flower pattern also ran across the doors of a wardrobe moved into one corner.

It was obviously a child's room, but even Castiel with his limited experience with human children sensed the awkwardness. The room was too tidy. It was too quiet.

The child's bed also stood in one corner. Next to the bed stood a chair with a man sunk back into it in so awkward a position that he probably fell asleep without meaning it, exhausted from praying, hoping and waiting for something miraculous to happen while watching over a sick child.

The anxious mother had followed Castiel upstairs with a phone in her hand but too confused to actually do anything against him. The angel sensed that she couldn't take anymore. It wasn't hard to guess what numbers she was dialling in her distress, and Castiel sighed inwardly as he stooped over the bed. He would only need a few minutes.

He was careful neither to disturb the father nor the pale child, hooked up to machines that beeped softly every other second. He felt his heart clenching as he imagined what the parents were going through. Having experienced the richness of human emotion himself, he could only guess what they must be feeling with a kid this sick, looking so small under the covers.  
The angel pictured himself in their situation and a cold shiver ran down his spine – he remembered feeling helpless and powerless. He imagined what it must be like to have brought a life into the world, a life so frail and easily lost...

Castiel shook the thought and listened to the uneasy, laboured breathing of the little girl for a moment before gently touching her forehead with his fingers. He closed his eyes, ignoring the woman speaking to someone over the phone, and focussed. His forehead wrinkled in concentration. For quite some time he stood without moving, distantly hearing the woman waking up her husband and both of them talking to each other very loudly. Or maybe they were yelling at him, he couldn't tell. It didn't really matter.

When Castiel finally straightened his back, the girl was breathing easy and the sweat on her face was drying fast. In the morning she would wake up, well rested and healthy, and her sickness would feel like a bad dream that had been chased away by the light.

The woman stared at Castiel with her eyes wide in unspeakable surprise: “What have you done to her?!”

Castiel raised is hands in defence. He stepped back to allow the parents to rush over to the child and reassured them in a calm voice: “Your daughter is fine now. She's sleeping. There is no need for you to worry anymore.”

* * *

 

Castiel had almost made it to the car when he heard someone calling out after him: “Hey! You! Wait up!”

He turned back toward the house and stood to let the man catch up with him. The rain had stopped and a soft glow on the horizon heralded the approaching morning, dulled only by misty shrouds hanging still in the air.

The man's face was wet with tears of joy as he reached Cas, and he was trembling, his teeth chattering so badly that it was hard for the angel to understand him as he reached for Castiel's hand and took it in his own, nearly crushing it. But even if Castiel hadn't understood the words, the man's face and eyes would've been enough to comprehend the message.

  
“Thank you! _Thank you!”_

Castiel smiled and returned the crushing handshake carefully: “I'm glad I was able to help you.”  
Suddenly Castiel remembered something else. Digging into his pocket, he rummaged around and brought out a number of wrinkled notes and wet coins that he handed over to the man, who stared at them in utter confusion.

The angel's smile deepened as he realised he had to refresh the man's memory: “You helped me out in a situation I hadn't even realised that I needed help. You offered me a ride in your vehicle, and afterwards gave me money to make a phone call, both without asking for anything in return. Now I have helped you when you were in a bad situation and this”, he gestured towards the money, “is the exact amount I owe you. If you will excuse me now – I have some friends I have to join soon.”

The man's eyes lifted from the money to Cas' face, and suddenly his eyes widened in surprise: “It's you! The confused man that I...”

Castiel turned towards his car again with the smile still on his face and began walking, but was stopped when he felt the man he still didn't know the name of grabbing hold of his coat sleeve.

The man hesitated for a moment before finally asking: “ _What_ are you?”

_What was he?_ This was a question that had bothered him for some time now. He hadn't been able to come to terms with being human, not even as adequate punishment for all the things he'd done. But, as he had told Sam and Dean, his time as human had been educational in more than just one instance. He had realised that there was more to it then he'd ever imagined. These experiences would make him stronger. They made him more complete.

There was still only one answer to the question put to him. He had seldom been so much at peace with what he was as in this moment.

Castiel drew himself up to his full height. Pride and relief were both plain in his voice as he declared: “My name is Castiel. I'm an angel of the lord.”

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: It would be a lie to say all of this came easily – so if you enjoyed this shot, please feel free to leave me a review and tell me what you think! (Please do the same if you didn't enjoy it; constructive criticism is very welcome.)


End file.
